


Tough luck, Malcolm (It ain't Luck, it's Destiny)

by Cueyatl



Series: Soulmates AUs Collection (Multiple Fandoms) [1]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bandits & Outlaws, Graves swears one time, Humor, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmates, Soulmates compass, Twisted Fate being Twisted Fate, but with good reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6923692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cueyatl/pseuds/Cueyatl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm Graves can't remember why he ever thought trying to find someone meant for him - someone he knew was going to be a lying gold-thirsty outlaw - was ever a good idea.  At the time, it had seemed a perfectly sensible plan... He was so sure...</p><p>  [Soulmates AU - Everybody has a compass leading them to their Soulmate, but not many outlaws actually care...]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tough luck, Malcolm (It ain't Luck, it's Destiny)

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmates AU #1
> 
> Fandom: League of Legends
> 
> Pairing: Malcolm Graves/Twisted Fate-Tobias Foxtrot... sort of. 
> 
> Type of Soulmates Universe: Everyone has a compass on the wrist. It points you in the direction of your Soulmate. The closer you get, the more defined, bright and colored it gets. When you first hear your Soulmate talking, it disappears. 
> 
> Oh, and I welcome any remarks about grammar or orthograph - I'm here to improve my English. 
> 
> Both parts of the title are quotes from Twisted Fate. I hesitated for a while with Graves' "Well, well, it's time I straightened you out, Fate..." Still thinks it could make a good title for a sequel.

Malcolm was a traditional outlaw by many standards. He roamed the Bilgewater coasts and lands, alone, living off of armed robbery, dishonest gambling and felony. What he wanted, he took without asking twice or nicely, and shot at everything that annoyed him or stood in his way. He liked his life, and intended to keep it that way. The only notable difference between him and the rest of the crooks that populated Runeterra, was that he was actively and purposely going th way his compass was telling him to.

Like everybody else that was more or less human, Malcolm had a compass inked on his left wrist. Its single shard was pointed straight south of his current position, where his soulmate was. Not many felons such as him cared about the whole True Love business. Not that they hated the idea of meeting their soulmate - they just valued gold above love, and therefore had no time to spend on endless searches and perilous quests. 

Malcolm Graves had a slightly different way of thinking. The point of a soulmate was that they were pretty much made for each other. So, obviously, Malcolm’s destined damsel or gent had to be like him: thrilling on the chase and run, looking for gold and adventure across the land, and a dishonest stealing lawbreaking cheating marauder. And what was better than the life Malcolm had than Malcolm’s life with a reliable loyal partner? In this line of work, such a thing was rare! 

Of course, there was always the slight possibility that his soulmate was a dumb housekeeping proper accountant or fisherman, but he doubted it – or rather really really wished they weren’t. 

And so, one day, as the sun was getting low, Malcolm entered the small town of Grassbender. The compass on his wrist was brighter than ever. It almost looked real. Malcolm was both nervous and relieved. His soulmate had been a pain in the ass to track down. But soon enough, they would be face to face. And then the fun would really begin. 

Malcolm made his way toward the only inn of the town, his compass still growing more and more vivid. In a few moments, it would disappear, as all compasses did, upon hearing its target first words. Considering the shady look of the inn, Malcolm smirked. He was definitely right about his soulmate being a bandit.

Malcolm decided to keep it cool. He would enter the inn, not take a look around or check the compass every second, and ask for a whisky. Even though he was a bit of a gruff character, and wanted this over with quickly, he knew first impressions were important – and this was a first impression for life. 

Malcolm pushed the door open and made his way toward the counter, looking straight at the barkeeper – a small redhead with a funny nose – who gulped at the sight of his gun. Malcolm grinned. 

“A double whisky,” he ordered. He took two gold demacian pieces out of his pocket, in which a purse full of them was resting, a well-deserved reward for a stunt he had pulled two days before. Everything really was getting his way lately. 

The innkeeper nodded and served immediately. The inn was mostly empty, from what Malcolm could see. There were two men in a corner talking over mugs of beers; a group of Yorddles arguing loudly in the middle; a woman with a hood covering her head (Malcolm let his gaze linger longer on her – could she be…?); and four men playing poker in deadly silent, two pretty women watching them, giggling. Of all the players, Malcolm could only see the faces of three, none of which seemed happy. The fourth man, the one with his back turned to Malcolm, wearing a large had and a fashionable but worn out cloak, must have been winning. He was whispering something in the ear of one of the lady, and she was laughing. 

Malcolm turned back to his whisky and two long gulps of it. He remembered where everybody was in the room. One look at his wrist and he would know. He was about to up his sleeve, just enough to check, when he was interrupted.

“Hello, mister,” said a sweet voice. It was one of the lovely poker ladies- the one who was laughing a few seconds ago. She had left the table where the three losers where now arguing with the man in the hat about his victory. 

“Hello,” Malcolm grunted back, before remembering that she could just as well be his soulmate. And really, what other reasons would she have to suddenly come over to him? She’s make more money staying with that man in the hat. He glanced at her wrist – it was covered by a colorful ribbon. 

“I’ve never seen you around before,” she continued, leaning on the counter, inviting. 

“I’m not from those parts,” Malcolm said, finishing his whisky. 

The woman smiled even brighter. Malcolm thought he heard rustling behind him, distracting him for a second, but he quickly got a hold of himself and refocused his attention on the lady, trying to read her. Was she…?

“Where’re you from then?” she asked.

“Bilgewater,” he said. “What about you? Are you always so friendly towards strangers?”

“Only when I have a debt towards Serpentine gypsies,” she huffed, puzzling him. He saw her glance at the inn’s door behind him and he heard it open and shut. Someone had left. 

“The man in the hat?” he hazarded a guess.

“Yeah, that one,” she nodded. “Calls himself Twisted Fate. Only thing twisted ‘bout him is his sense of humor. Sorry, by the way – like I said, I owed him.”

“Sorry about what?” Malcolm frowned. Discreetly (or so he hoped), he managed to check his wrist. His frown deepened. The compass was still bright and clear, but was getting less and less colored by the second. And was moving. The person he heard leave, he realized in horror, must have been his soulmate. He looked around the room.

Everybody but the man in the hat was still there. Just as he was about to leave in a rush to run after his fated partner, the lady answered his question.

“’bout your gold, of course,” she said.

Immediately, he put a hand in his pocket and felt his blood turn cold. The purse had disappeared. Almost like in a dream, he remembered the lady’s look above his shoulder and the rusting he had heard.

The man in the hat had stolen his purse and ran away with it.

_His soulmate had pick-pocketed him and left. ___

“SON OF A BITCH!” Malcolm roared, startling the woman and the bartender who both took a step back.

Malcolm ran out the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the man in the hat somewhere in the evening crowd, letting the compass guide him.

Why did he think having a backstabbing gold-thirsty honorless outlaw for a soulmate was an excellent thing again? What the hell? Who’d do things like that? Malcolm had not heard the man talk, but the man must have heard him chat with the woman while he was emptying his pockets, so there was no way the man did not know Malcolm was his destined partner – his compass must have disappeared. 

Breathless, Malcolm had to give up the pursuit. He had walked all day, whereas the man in the hat – Twisted Fate, he recalled the woman saying – had probably been sitting on a chair the whole time. He couldn’t catch up to him. Not tonight. But damn it, the hunt was opened. He was going to make that bastard pay.

Twisted Fate. _Twisted Fate indeed _, Malcolm Graves thought bitterly at the irony of the situation. That was a twisted fate if he ever saw one.__

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, it was going to be about Graves chasing down Twisted Fate, and TF running around creating messes for Graves to clean up, leaving him notes in sordid places and generally trolling him. Then I had the idea for the first scene like this, and I thought it worked better on its own. Maybe I'll add the chase later... I'm not convinced...
> 
> I'm still thinking "Well, well, it's time I straightened you out, Fate..." is a great idea for a sequel, though !
> 
> Also still wondering wether it was the right thing to do, refering to Graves as 'Malcolm'. Graves sounded too impersonal - but LoL Players are more familiar with 'Graves' than 'Malcolm' soooo...
> 
> Tell me what you think ?


End file.
